


In Morte, Aerternitatis

by mummydahlia



Category: Candyman (1992)
Genre: Adult Content, Blood and Gore, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Horror, Magic, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26841295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mummydahlia/pseuds/mummydahlia
Summary: Born in Saint Petersburg, Russia to a wealthy family of Russian aristocrats, Anya Fyodorov is a well educated and privileged woman; spirited away at a young age along with her mother and brother by her father, Ivan, to America in order to escape a dark secret hidden by her father. She is left to wonder what happened to him as he never rejoins them. Her mother, Elena,  insisting only that he could not follow for their own safety.Now a ballet instructor in New Orleans, Anya blooms into a guarded woman surrounded by tales of a man with bees in his chest and a voice of rolling thunder. Her best friend, Annie Tarrant, unravels a world she never dreamed possible; ultimately dragging Anya along. As she journeys deeper into Annie's newfound nightmare, this myth used to scare tourists and children alike will become more real than ever before.
Relationships: Candyman x OFC, Candyman | Daniel Robitaille/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. In Morte, Aerternitatis (Ch. 1): Begin

**Author's Note:**

> Hello All! I absolutely adore Candyman/Daniel Robitaille and there honestly is not enough love for him in the horror community so I wanted to post my developing fanfic of him here. You can also find this on my Tumblr under the username M0rticia. I am trying to get a more steady update system going, but I promise you this will be a completed story! Please enjoy!

**_New Orleans, LA 1995_ **

Storm clouds bordered the edge of town, a distant rumbling threatening to disrupt the merry making taking place only days before Mardi Gras in the jubilant city of New Orleans. Anastasia Fyodorov drove her cerulean 1966 Ford Mustang through the cobblestone streets as the radio played softly in her ears.

_ Are you with me, New Orleans? Do ya hear me? This is the Kingfish coming to you at 96.2 FM. Anointed and appointed. Just three more days, Crescent City, three days until Lent. So let's have it, the merriment before the penance, and the feast before the fast! The Kingfish gonna keep y'all company all the way down. Hey, brothers and sisters, y'all know what "carnival" means in Latin? Well, the Kingfish went to the good schools, so he can tell you all about it. Carnival. Farewell to the flesh. That's what it means. I like that a lot! Farewell to the flesh. Yeah, you right. And farewell to all that floodin', as far as I'm concerned. That's right. Look at it. The banks of the mighty Mississippi are ready to spill their seed. Just look at that sky out there. It's ready to rain on us again. And the clouds? Well, now, brothers and sisters, they're not the only thing threatenin' the Crescent City. We're talking murder, mes amis. Or so we've heard before, the hook man, kerchunk. So when you pull on your costume and turn to admire yourself in the mirror, please keep those lips locked tight. Do not call his name. _

Anya let out a chuckle before pulling onto a side street and switching the car off, her mind swam with thoughts of young teens daring to utter the infamous name all for a few bragging rights amongst their friends.. True, her brother had always flirted with the idea of attempting the same, often trying to goade her into calling upon the vengeful spirit. Their mother, however, had taught her far better than to mess with anything associated with the supernatural. Better to let the dead stay that way, after all.

_ ‘Speak of the Devil.’  _ She thought with a chuckle as she spotted a familiar face leaving her dance studio. She retreated from the car and locked it with a smirk.

“Missed me already, Vadim? What would your employees think of you leaving the brunch rush just to see your sister?” She teased.

“I’ll have you know that Doc has the rush handled just fine, thank you. Plus…” He reached behind his back and pulled a pair of keys out, “You forgot your studio keys at the bar.” He chuckled as Anya’s whole body untensed and she threw herself into his arms in gratitude.

“I know I give you  _ so _ much shit, but I really have no idea what I’d do without you,  **_moy brat_ ** .” No matter how long the siblings spent in America, their native tongue of Russian would always be a part of their lives.

“You’ll never have to worry about that,  **_dushen'ka_ ** ,” Vadim squeezed his sister fondly and relinquished the keys to her when she pulled back, “Now run along, your students await and Doc will be expecting me back soon.” He patted her cheek fondly and chuckled when she scrunched her face in mock annoyance.

“Okay, okay, enough touchy feely time. Get back to it and swing by the house later, I’ll cook you some gumbo and biscuits as a thank you.” She laughed and began walking to her studio keys firmly in hand as Vadim voiced his agreement at her offer, turning and making his own way back down town.

Anya unlocked the door and began to prepare for the day’s classes, the smell of last night's shoe chalk still fresh in the air to accompany her thoughts. 

Vadim had always been an attentive older brother, even as far back she could remember from her time in Russia. Constantly watching out for her and being the responsible male figure in her life when their father could not. Not that it was their father’s fault, of course, what with his family’s safety to worry about.

Or so their mother had always told them.

It had only been five years since Elena Fyodorov’s passing at the hands of a car accident, but to Anya it truly felt like yesterday. No one was really at fault, a child had chosen the wrong time to wander out into the street in order to retrieve his ball and Elena had swerved to avoid hitting him. Unfortunately, the impact from colliding with a lone street pole was just enough to take her mother away instantly. After that, it was up to the Fyodorov twins to survive the world on their own with no mother and a seemingly absent father.

Life, however, was not entirely cruel to the Russian redheads. With the immense fortune their parents had bequeathed unto them both had flourished in their own respective professions, Vadim with a Russian New Orleans fusion restaurant and Anya with her own ballet studio for children and teens whose parents could not afford to send them to the bigger cities. Nothing gave her more happiness than being able to do what she loved while teaching others along the way. Was it the easiest craft in the world?

Absolutely not.

Being a ballerina meant long days into longer nights with a strict schedule that had one's body screaming for a hot bath. Anya didn’t want that to be what her students felt, she wanted them to enjoy what they did; to feel the emotion and passion that went into dancing. It was more than just movement; it was poetry, a story to tell, a-

“Mornin’ Miss Ani!”

Anya grasped her chest in surprise, turning to face the energetic voice with a smile.

“Yasmine! You nearly gave me a fright, sweetheart.” She pushed her hair back with a smile as the rest of the kids filed in through the door.

“Sorry Miss Ani! Wasn’t my intention, I swear!”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. Don’t worry about it,” She smoothed the young teen’s baby hairs down, “Now go put your flats on and get ready for stretches.” Yasmine nodded and ran back to join her friends near their cubbies.

_ ‘Just another day.’  _ Anya shook her head before joining her students.

_______________________________________

The evening was still light as Anya cleaned and organized the studio for the night, her muscles well used and ready for a shower. Well, a shower after she cooked dinner for herself and Vadim.

Normally the idea of cooking would be fine with her, perfect in fact what with how much she enjoyed it. As much as Vadim was the big chef of the family, she knew she could hold her own when it came to the comforts of the kitchen; often having to cook and care for her brother when he was sick or hungover from the previous night.

She wiped her hands on her leggings and slung her gym bag onto her shoulder, keys jingling in hand as she went to lock up for the night. Breathing in the warm New Orleans air at night was more refreshing than any shower she could dream up. It was refreshing and rejuvenating in ways that she couldn’t put into words after spending most of the day in the stuffy studio with a gaggle of energetic kids. 

She turned the lock to the studio, ready to get in her car and head home.

“Anya?!” She turned to see a familiar truck pull up near her car.

“Annie? Paul? What are you two still doing over here, I thought you would’ve been home by now.” Her confusion only grew when Annie got out of the car and lightly jogged to her before hugging her tightly.

“Anya, it’s Ethan, the cops are keeping him in the station. I-” Anya hushed her gently, her hands softly running up and down her back as Paul too exited the vehicle. Her face must have held the question she had waiting on the tip of her tongue.

“Got a call from Annie today that Ethan was being held for- well, held for suspicion of murder on multiple counts.” Paul looked none too thrilled that a nice night with his wife was dashed by such a dark turn of events.

Anya had always admired the love shared between Annie and Paul, how effortlessly they floated around each other as if it was fate’s design. She couldn’t ever remember her father looking at her mother the way Paul looked at her best friend.

“Murder? Annie, what-” The blonde cut her off.

“I know it sounds crazy, but he didn’t do it! I know he’s been so off kilter since Daddy died, but he wouldn’t murder anyone Anya, he wouldn’t!”

“Hey, hey, take it easy Ann! No one here is saying that,” She held her shoulders, “Where is Ethan now?”

“Still being held in police custody, they’re convinced he murdered Purcell-”

“Purcell? Professor Philp Purcell, the man who wrote that Candyman book?”

“Yes, him and- and they’re trying to pin all the recent murders on Ethan, including Daddy!”

Now that made her pause. The death of Coleman Tarrant was heard throughout the entirety of Louisiana and no one was more devastated than Ethan. He’d been the one to discover Coleman in front of the hidden Candyman shrine in the old Tarrant ancestral estate. He’d been obsessed with the legend weeks before his death, often spending late nights at the bar of Vidam’s restaurant combing over notes and muttering to himself. Ethan had blamed himself, citing that if he’d found his father sooner that he could have saved him.

Nothing Annie nor her mother told Ethan would ever convince him otherwise it seemed. No, it was preposterous to think Ethan would ever harm his family let alone any human being, even one as arrogant as Philip Purcell.

“Is there anything we can do?” She knew there was little she could say to make this go away, but she could try. Annie shook her head and grasped Anya’s hands.

“Not right now, not until we can find something that could prove Ethan innocent to the murders,” She sighed as Paul came up alongside the both of them, “We were going to head back to my childhood home in the morning, try and find something that could help make sense of all this.”

“I can meet you both there if you need an extra hand? Only have a nightly pointe class tomorrow with the kids I need to be at.” Hell, she could even cancel that if it meant proving Ethan as innocent.

“That would be real fine, Anya,” Paul intercepted and wrapped his arms around both the young women’s shoulders, “But in the meantime, you’re welcome to come back to the bar for a drink on the house, think we could all use one after today.” She smiled at his kindness.

“You know on any normal day I’d never pass up free booze, but I promised Vadim I’d cook him a meal tonight. Now come on, group hug hm?” She laughed as Annie cracked a smile while Paul chuckled, squeezing both ladies equally.

“We’ll see you at the old plantation house in the morning then?” Annie inquired after pulling out of the hug.

“Of course, Ann” She hugged her best friend one last time before kissing Paul on the cheek, “Have one on me, Mister Manager.” Paul laughed and patted her back fondly.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice!” He laughed.

With one last wave, Anya trekked to her car; images of the clear night and legends dancing in her brain.

________________________________

The Fyodorov villa was old, but still big enough to accomodate a family of three or more. In the case of Anya and Vadim the latter couldn’t handle the absence of his mother enough to live there, opting to find his own estate nearby. Anya felt in a similar fashion to her brother yet slightly different.

The thought of her family home sitting in ruins or used as a vacant lot wasn’t something that thrilled her by any means. Their family had engraved too many memories, painted too much love within the walls of this estate for her to simply sell it to the highest bidder.

The decision to keep the villa came with a few opportunities to redecorate and make the space her own, keeping all of her mother’s prized possessions and their childhood memories stored in the attic for safe keeping. Gone were the emerald green walls and gold drapery, replaced by a celestial pink and cream velvet. Paintings of moon lit scenery and castles in a far away land lined the walls with various antiques and flowers accompanying marbles tables.

Some may call her sense of decorum tacky, almost old fashioned, but it reminded her of home; a fond memory that she never fully got to embrace.

Something she still desperately clung to.

While she kept everything light and airy throughout the estate, her own room was styled to fit a more romantic mood. Swathed in white lace drapery and painted a deep burgundy to offset her chestnut bed post, it’s arms reaching towards the ceiling while holding black velvet netting to encase her in her own dreams. Two shelves lined the walls and held her most favorite stories, some that she had enjoyed in childhood and others that stole her attention even now.

Of all the rooms in the villa, one that meant the world to her, one that she found herself in now was the little dance studio that she had gutted the basement for, one that was only accessible through the pulling of a blue book of poetry in a lone bookcase.

The room was modest in size, enough for one or two people to dance in comfortably in tandem and lit by an adjustable switch to set the right mood. One wall was lined with full body mirrors for her own self reflection and critique, the other bare with one or two chairs and an old record player.. 

This was her safe place, somewhere she could reflect and relax; a room to be whoever she wanted. Some days she pictured that she was an established ballerina still performing in Russia, other days she imagined herself as a princess dancing amongst dashing strangers and beautiful aristocrats.

Even now she could feel herself start to nod off into her imagin-

“Anya? Hellooooo? Earth to the grand duchess!” 

She made two mistakes when constructing this room, telling Vadim how to find it and not making it sound proof.

With a sigh she turned off the lights and opened the passage back into the stairwell, smirking at the sight of her brother on the other side.

“You realize the food is on the table, right?” Her nose scrunched at his scoff.

“Well that’s all well and good, but I was under the impression I’d be dining with my sister. The one who made the meal?” He flicked her cheek and threw his arm over her shoulder, guiding her back upstairs.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit spacey since I got back, Ethan was arrested..” At her comment, Vadim’s head shot up in confusion, “Murder, evidently.”

“ **_Bychit_ ** ! You’re messing with me aren’t you?” Anya smiled wanly at his disbelief, “Well shit, you’re not...shit well- who’s the victim?”

“Philip Purcell.”

“The Candyman professor? Well I’ll be damned, Ethan’s dad used to mention him when he’d come to the bar. Something about the old codger not believing the myth after he told him to say the name five times in a mirror or something like that.”

“What, like Bloody Mary?” Anya chuckled as she dug into her meal.

“Sort of a Bloody Mary vibe with Phantom of the Opera thrown into the mix,” Anya stopped mid chew to look up in confusion as he continued, “I read Purcell’s book, Candyman was originally an artist named Daniel Robitaille who fell in love with a white woman from Southern society. After they were found out he was chased down and tortured by an angry mob, sawed off his painter’s hand and smeared honey all over him before the bees came”

“Jesus..” Anya put her hand over her mouth.

“You can guess what happened after that, surprised you haven’t heard the tale.”

“I know what Candyman is, I just never really knew anything about the man behind the myth.” She shrugged.

“Coleman was obsessed with it, told me the story and gave me a copy of Purcell’s book to read up on. As far as I could tell Ethan’s been depressed, but murder?” He shook his head and took a bite of his biscuit.

“Well, I’ll be seeing Annie and Paul in the morning. Maybe they’ll have more info by then.” She stood up and collected her dishes. Vadim quirked his head.

“Day trip?”

“Not exactly, Annie thinks there might be some clues back at the old Tarrant estate. You know, where they- where they found Coleman?” She hesitated and looked at Vadim, “The shrine.”

“Mm, spooky.” Vadim shivered, “Gonna leave the big bad boogeyman an offering?” He chuckled.

Anya stopped at the sink and hummed thoughtfully.

“You know? I just might.”

  
  
  



	2. In Morte, Aerternitatis (Ch. 2): Offerings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am the writing on the wall, the whisper in the classroom! Without these things, I am nothing. So now, I must shed innocent blood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! To any and all who have messaged me about this fiction, I thank you for your kindness. It means a lot to see so much appreciation for Daniel/Candyman. As much as I love the main stream slashers, Candyman is a CLASSIC that deserves just as much love and appreciation. Please enjoy!

The next morning was a light affair of tea and scones for Anya readying herself for the day ahead; the unknown swimming in front of her. She made a mental note to make a quick stop at the local florist before heading over to meet Annie and Paul at the estate.

If she hurried, she could make it there a few minutes before them in order to do some digging of her own.

Grabbing her bag, she left the house and hopped into the car; goals set in mind. After a few turns she pulled over at “Mama’s Floral”, silently hoping that there was still a fresh pick of blooms this morning.

She browsed over the containers and arrangements thoughtfully, waiting for something to catch her eye. There were plenty of roses, lilies, sunflowers, any and all common flowers she found on every mantle or grave.

“Need somethin’, darlin?” She turned to see the shopkeeper with a warm smile on her face.

“Oh, well yes, actually. I just need a few small blooms, nothing too..” She attempted to find the word.

“Obnoxious?” The old woman chuckled, “Don’t you worry baby, I got just the thing.” She motioned for Anya to follow until they reached the back of the store. There lay a few different types of flowers in smaller size that instantly drew her in.

“I’ll take ten of these please.” She motioned to a bucket of white flowers.

“Maybe not what I would’ve picked, but the meaning is still a lovely thing,” The shopkeeper smiled and picked a few, “These are gardenias, they symbolize sweetness and convey a sense of joy. Almost as if to tell the receiver ‘you are lovely!’” She took the flowers to the register with Anya in tow.

She paid the woman and took the small bundle with a small ‘thank you’ before leaving towards her car. The streets of New Orleans were still at rest in the early light of morning, allowing her for a peaceful drive in the sun as she switched the radio station.

_ Are you with me, Crescent City? Do you feel it comin' on? When the Catholic Church realised they couldn't rid us of our pagan ways, they invited… _

On second thought, maybe a quiet drive was what she needed. While Kingfish kept the radio lively with his deep Louisiana accent and wisdom of all things mythical, today just wasn’t the time for thoughts about dark forces.

After another ten minutes she pulled into the driveway of Annie’s ancestral home, noting that she had in fact beaten them to the punch at the absence of Paul’s red truck. Locking her car, she took the flowers and began the walk inside to the shrine.

The old Tarrant estate was run down and well used, white paint browning and chipping from the walls by the droves with smashed porcelain and glass everywhere she looked. She didn’t even want to think about the dust and mold that covered every square inch by this point. Trudging carefully up the stairs she found a group of what appeared to be homeless men sitting on a loose mattress.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude. I- well, I was looking for the shrine for Candy-” She was cut off as one of the men jumped back with a hand up.

“Don’t be sayin’ that name, not here!” She startled and tried to apologize again before being cut off once more.

“That old thing doesn't get many visitors. What do ya want with it?” An older man grumbled.

Anya hesitated and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Just here to leave an offering.” She gestured to the flowers in her hand. The man drew his eyes from the gardenias to her face, nodding to the left.

“Down the hall, first door on the right.” He turned back to the other two men, seemingly content to ignore her existence. She nodded in thanks before walking off further into the house, eyeing the vines that grew up and through the walls as she went. She found herself turning right into what appeared to be some kind of bedroom, another little door inside that she hoped would lead to her destination.

She wandered into the dark corridor littered with graffiti, a door with what appeared to be the back of a throat painted onto it in her reach. Pushing open the door, Anya knew she had found her destination. 

‘ _ Sweets to the sweet _ ’ was painted in neon colors on the wall in front of her, something about that saying almost felt mocking in nature. Detailed paintings on the broken down walls drew her in and made her curious. A mob of men and women restraining a frightened man as he seemingly pleaded for help; another of the same man covered in welts and bumps, his hand now completely gone as he reached for an invisible figure. His eyes held a look of pure grief that nearly broke her heart on the spot. She reached up to touch the painting gently almost as if afraid she’d hurt the subject even more, her fingers lightly caressing the chipping paint of his reaching hand. 

From the corner of her eye, a splash of red caught her attention. There in front of her was the prominent shrine she’d been searching for, littered in candies and lit candles in front of what seemed to be a mural of the mythic Candyman himself.

Carefully, she padded over to the shrine, flowers loosely held in her grasp.

“Uhm...hello,” She chirped at the ominous visage in front of her, his mouth open as if in an eternal scream of rage, “I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t bring any candy with me. Figured you might appreciate something.. different.”

Her eyes wandered to the multiple skulls that were painted at his feet.

“My name is Anastasia, but I suppose you can call me Anya. Less of a mouthful,” She chuckled nervously, “Anyway, I- I brought you these flowers, gardenias; they mean sweetness and joy from what I understand. Figured you could use some after the stories I’ve heard.”

She found herself drawn to his hooked hand, a small frown gracing her face.

“If what they say is true..how you lost your hand, how you died,” She swallowed and took a deep breath, “Then I’m sorry, no one deserves to suffer that way; especially not for falling in love. My words probably don’t mean much, but- but I do  _ mean _ them.” She nodded firmly and placed the flowers on top of the shrine.

“Gardenias,” She whispered to herself, “To tell the receiver that they are lovely…”

_ ‘His name was Daniel Robitaille…’ _ The echo of her brother's words rang in her head as she looked up to the image in front of her.

“You’re lovely, Daniel.” She whispered with a sparkle in her eye. She smiled once more before turning around to really look at the spacious room, wooden and steel pole connecting from the ceiling to the ground all around her. 

The space was nearly big enough to waltz with a partner if it wasn’t for the beams and poles, maybe one person could move comfortably if they had good coordination. She shook her head as she realized that even here she was thinking about dancing and what she could do to fill the space.

As if by magic, the music from a nearby residence floated on the breeze and through the broken windows of the home and pulled her lips into a full blown smile at the familiar notes of Tchaikovsky.

Her body began to sway gently to the rhythm, feet taking on a life of their own as she forgot where she was in lieu of the smooth notes. She swayed and glided around the room as her hands gently grasped the beams to spin around them, almost as if she was dancing from partner to partner. The light breeze blew in and kissed her cheeks as she spun, pirouetting in place once, twice, three times.

She came to a stop and posed in arabesque, dropping her foot back down into another spin as she did a grande jeté before coming back to the floor and beginning her partnering with the beams once more. She spun around one in particular, grabbing it gently in order to dip backwards slowly. With her eyes closed and the music swelling in her ears she could almost feel a presence there with her, gently encompassing her back so she wouldn’t fall.

Coming back up into a standing position and breathing out a laugh, she let her hands rest on the beam in front of her as the music faded away and the feeling on her back disappeared almost as quickly as she felt it.

“Having fun?” She gasped in shock and turned to face the humorous voice. Annie stood there with a hand covering her mouth, eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Dammit Annie Tarrant, you nearly stopped my heart!” She clutched her heart and attempted to calm her breathing as Annie came towards her.

“I should’ve known you’d come here before and bore yourself waiting.” Annie laughed as Anya rolled her eyes.

“Well I didn’t do it on purpose, just wanted to get a head start on looking. You’ve got enough on your plate right now and this was the least I could do.” She combed her red curls back and sighed.

“Anastasia Ilyena Fyodorov, I know that look” Annie scolded, “I know that look. You being here for Paul and I is more than enough and you know it.” Anya exhaled and grasped Annie’s hands.

“I know I just- I wish I could do more, you and your family were there for Vadim and I everyday when Mama passed away,” She rubbed her thumb over Annie’s, “Hell I was half expecting your mother to adopt me with how much she doted and cleaned around the estate after Vadim left...I could barely get out of bed most days and she was always right there with a pot of tea.” She chuckled.

“You know she’d adopt you both in a heartbeat if you’d let her” Annie chuckled along, “But the point is you and Vadim did the same for her after Daddy died. You were both here for all of us when we felt lost and if I recall, you were the one with the teapot that time.” Both women laughed simultaneously, squeezing hands one last time as they both seemed to recall where they were.

“Well, I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary since I’ve gotten here other than a few interesting murals.” Anya sighed.

“Yeah, same with Paul and I. A few men down the hall, but nothing that could explain Ethan’s sudden change” Annie sighed and walked up to the mural, “There has to be something, Anya! After that night Ethan became an entirely different person, all of his goals and wants replaced by a dark...cloud! It’s not just the fact that he found Daddy, but- but something else.” She let her eyes roam the mural in confusion.

“Whatever it was” Anya walked up to Annie to stand with her, “We’ll find it Ann, I promise.” Anya smiled in a comforting manner as Annie found solace in the warmth she radiated.

“You’re right, annoyingly so as usual” Annie laughed as Anya lightly pushed her arm, “Come on, I don’t think Paul likes being here all that much. Nearly twisted his ankle just getting here.” She laughed and walked off towards the entrance to the room.

Anya turned to follow slowly, sparing one last glance at the flowers she left and back to the mural, waving gently with a small smile before following after her friend. 

As both occupants left the room entirely, another entered. One lone bee flew in from the broken window and made its way to the fresh gardenias; tiny legs gently caressing the petals before landing to embrace the sweet scent before it.

__________________________________

That night saw Anya once again cleaning the studio after all the kids had gone home for the night, picking up leftover bandages and wiping chalk from the floor. She really needed to enforce a better sense of cleanliness, lord knows she didn’t want any parents complaining of chalky shoes all over their carpet.

She shook her head and threw any remaining garbage into the small pale in the corner as a knock sounded from the entrance door. Dusting off her hands, she made her way out of her office and into the studio area.

_ ‘Strange…’ _ She thought, seeing no one at the glass door as she approached. Opening it into the night she looked around, not seeing a single soul nor departing car that could have yielded any results. There was no way she imagined it, the knock was as clear as day and even she knew she wasn’t  _ that  _ tired.

Anya looked around once more before turning her eyes to the ground below, a single red amaryllis lay in full bloom at her feet. 

She tilted her head and crouched down to pick up the flower, slowly turning it over in her hands and letting her fingertips touch the petals. Her mother used to grow these by the dozen, but had never told her what they meant. Maybe she didn’t care to. She looked up once more if only to catch a glimpse of someone- anyone, really.

Not a soul in sight.

Shrugging, she took the flower back inside to continue her nightly ritual before going home.

After another thirty minutes of cleaning Anya found herself jumping into the car, the moon lighting a path as her car rolled down the street. Thoughts of the conversation she’d had with Annie earlier in the day filled her head as the police station came into view. Shaking her head, she pulled into the parking lot and went inside.

Coming to a stop in front of the visitors station, a younger officer looked up expectantly at her.

“Ethan Tarrant.” She offered.

He looked relatively confused, but wrote out a tag and let her pass while another officer escorted her up the stairs and into a side room where Ethan sat inside. His head perked up at the sound of the door opening.

“Anya? What are you doing here?” His brow creased with a frown.

“Trying to help your sister” She responded sitting down, “Ethan, what’s going on?” He scoffed and looked away from her.

“You know what’s going on. I killed him, Anya. I’m sure Annie already told you so don’t play dumb with-”

“Oh cut the bullshit, Ethan. You’ve been acting like an asshole for the past year and throwing your whole life down the drain” She raised her voice to make sure he understood how serious she was, “I’m sorry about Coleman, I really am, but you’re not the only one in the world who’s had to deal with death. You won’t even let your own family in anymore out of some misplaced guilt that you somehow killed your father!”

“Enough-”

“Drinking until dawn in the Quarter? Slacking on your PHD? You-”

“I said ENOUGH!” Ethan banged his fists onto the table and shook it slightly.

Anya sat there unphased by his outburst, Ethan was prone to them as of late. Always lashing out whenever any semblance of truth was thrown in his face.

“You have no clue what you’re talking about, Anastasia.” He growled.

“I don’t? You won’t even tell Annie what’s going on, sitting here claiming you did this when we both know you wouldn’t.” She barked back as he laughed mockingly.

“And I’m telling you just like I told her, it’s none of your concern.” Something in his tone caught her attention.

“You know something Ethan,” She challenged, “There’s something you’re not saying, but it’s all over your face.”

He remained quiet as her eyes bore into his own, two fiery tempers matched in one face off. Finally, he broke eye contact.

“Even if I told you anything, you wouldn’t believe me” He groaned, “Neither would Annie. I have to protect her...can you understand that?” He questioned as she clenched her hands together, images of her father flashing before her.

“More than you know.” She whispered. His head shot to look at her as he seemingly comprehended what he had said to her, an apology poised on his lips.

“Alright, visiting hours are up Miss!” A female detective interrupted, shooting Ethan a wary look. Anya sighed and stood to gather her purse and face the detective.

“Anya?” Ethan’s voice stopped her as she turned back to look at him, “Please, just- just be careful okay? Annie needs you right now more than ever.” He begged. 

“I know, Ethan.” She nodded and left the room.

The detective escorted her back downstairs to the visitors station, her eyes straying from the form Anya filled out to her purse.

“That from someone special?” She asked as Anya looked back up. The detective gestured to the red flower peeking out from her purse.

“Not entirely sure, actually. It was left in front of my studio before I locked up.” She signed her name and handed the paper back.

“Well whoever left it must think a whole lot of you,” At Anya’s clear confusion she continued, “Amaryllis right? My husband would always bring me those when we first started dating, still have a few of them dried and preserved as a keepsake. Anyway he always used to tell me that they were a symbol of beauty, often used to indicate worth beyond beauty.” She smiled with a faraway look in her eye.

“Now of course it doesn’t have to mean anything romantic, but it’s definitely a big positive.” She took the paper as Anya nodded.

“Thank you, I had no idea.” She smiled hesitantly as the detective bid her goodnight. Maybe she’d make another pit stop at Annie’s before she went home, something didn’t sit well with what Ethan had told her.

___________________________

  
  



	3. In Morte, Aerternitatis (Ch. 3): Myths & Legends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie summons a dark entity and Paul suffers for it; leaving Anya to fight for their lives in an unexpected face to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys wanted Candyman? You got him.

Annie and Paul’s house was understandably dark by the time she got there, but after her visit with Ethan she had to see them; had to see Annie. Ethan was holding something in, protecting someone, he had to be! It was true he’d been stand offish after Coleman’s murder and perhaps irate in the face of comfort, but never had she heard him talk about murder.

Certainly not when it came to his father.

Whatever reasons he had for implicating himself, she needed to tell Annie. Maybe something he said would make a lightbulb go off if they put their heads together. Plus Paul could make a mean midnight snack while they brain stormed.

She made her way from her car to the front door and knocked, looking around at the foliage as she waited. After a minute she knocked once more with a bit more force, confused as to why she couldn’t at least hear footsteps from inside the house. Just when she was about to start searching for the spare key, the door opened to reveal Paul in his pajamas.

“Well, well, well, look who the sandman woke up.” He teased.

“Very funny, Top Chef. Do you mind if I come in? I know it’s late, but-” Paul laughed at her flustered correction.

“Get your Russian rear in here, you know I’m teasin’.” She scoffed at his amused expression and made her way inside, “So what brings yah to our humble abode at this hour?”

“I was actually hoping to speak to Annie. Just stopped by to check on Ethan and- well, something isn’t sitting right with me. There’s just something in the way he spoke that had me on edge” She sniffed the air as they neared the kitchen, “Do I smell crepes?” Paul snorted at her sudden train of thought.

“As a matter of fact, yes! Was makin’ a little dessert for the lady of the house, but I suppose I can make another for our most special guest?” He declared while whipping up another round of batter. 

“I don’t mean to impose…” Anya smirked.

“Now what kind of chef would I be if I didn’t make enough for everyone?” Paul smiled and picked up his tray after setting the batter onto the hot pan, “Keep an eye on that for a minute while I run this up to Annie, I’ll let her know you’re here.” And with a flourish, he was off and running.

Anya laughed at his enthusiasm and went to work with the crepe, no way she was gonna just sit and look at it. After the top had turned a slight golden color, she flipped it over and grabbed the cream and berries from where Paul had left them. After the pastry was done, she began to spread all the fixings evenly until a smashing of glass broke her from her concentration.

Looking up in alarm she called out for anyone who would answer. When she received no answer, curiosity and concern took over.

“Annie? Paul?” She called out once more as she made her way down the long hallway only to hear the sounds of what she could describe as panic quickening her pace at the sound of Annie’s call for Paul. 

Finally making her way to the last small set of steps, she froze at what she saw.

Annie stood frozen in fear, her hair disheveled and her eyes wide as saucers at the scene before her. From what she could tell, Paul was struggling and gasping in pain; restrained by the tall figure closest to her. It was clearly another man, but her first thought was of the sheer height he displayed; height that offset extremely broad shoulders swathed in a long black coat. Shit, it didn’t matter what he looked like, she needed to think quick if she wanted to get him away from Paul.

“HEY!” She shouted in the sternest voice her inner babushka could muster. At her scream, Annie’s head turned to her, fear painted onto her skin.

“Anya! Oh my god, Anya!” Annie cried as the figure turned with Paul still in his grasp to face the red head.

By the look of the man before her, she couldn’t say she recognized him. High cheekbones and intense eyes that lay on a bed of dark hickory skin, lips full yet set in a grim line with hair as black as night.

Yeah, she’d  _ definitely _ remember a face as powerful as his.

Paul continued to thrash in the strangers grasp, his hands clawing at the long arm encasing him. No matter how hard he struggled against the tall man, he never once flinched; attention fixated fully onto Anya while hers zeroed in on the small smattering of blood that dripped from Paul’s clothing.

“Let him go” She kept her voice stern yet lower than her previous panicked yell, taking a slow step forward to assert her presence. The man may have been a good few feet taller than her, but from where she stood atop the steps, her head came just up to the tip of his nose, “I said...let him go,  _ now _ .” God, how she was keeping her voice so steady was a mystery. Even Vadim would be impressed.

The man’s head tilted very slightly in a way that would be easy to miss if she wasn’t keeping her gaze firmly on his every move. It was hard to tell if he was amused or irritated by her display of attempted intimidation, but all she cared about was getting him away from Paul. After that? Well...she’d get there eventually.

“I don’t know who you are and I don’t why you’re doing this, but I’d really appreciate it if you could remove your weapon from my friend.” Damn, since when could she make her voice go that low?

The man's lip quirked by centimeters before the arm that wasn’t holding Paul pulled back, causing him to let out another grunt of pain before being tossed towards Annie. The stranger turned his body fully towards her only then revealing his weapon, conveniently lodged onto where his hand should’ve been.

_ ‘Well shit.’  _ She thought with a growing sense of dread and realization.

If this was who she thought it was then- no, no, no, no that was ridiculous. There was no way that this was the Candyman standing before her in living flesh. It had to be some sort of fanatic, a crazed worshipper of the myth. She was broken out of her musings as he took a long step towards her, her own foot going back out of reflex.

“So polite...even in the face of death itself.” His voice was composed of the darkest chocolate thrown into a rolling wave of thunder, deadly and deep in a way that wasn’t entirely unsettling. She felt herself take another step back as he came up the two small stairs, from the corner of her eye she saw Annie run back into her bedroom without him noticing as Paul lay against the wall still writhing in pain.

When he took another step towards Anya, a strange sense of pride built inside her; she would not be cornered into submission. Stopping in the middle of the hallway, she tilted her chin up in defiance of his presence. He didn’t stop until he stood directly in front of her, only a mere few inches separating them as she willed herself to breathe calmly.

His gaze felt as if it was somehow encompassing her entire being, transporting her to a different plane entirely. His human hand came up gently and grasped a strand of her hair in his fingers, letting it glide out of his grasp like the flow of water.

“Such fire  _ radiates _ from within you.” He husked as his hooked hand came up to caress her cheek.

It took everything in her to remain still as the rusted metal still coated in Paul’s blood stroked her cheek as if to evoke a lover's caress, his other coming to encase her own hand entirely. She could feel his eyes roaming over every meticulous detail of her face as the hook came to cradle the back of her neck in its curve.

“Will you still burn so brightly when all is said and done?” His hook placed the slightest amount of pressure on her neck to the point where she was pulled forward; his nose almost touching hers, “I will relish the chance to find out.” He whispered as she felt herself fall into darkness, the sound of distant sirens going off around her.

In what felt like eternity was actually two minutes as she found herself looking up at what appeared to be a paramedic as well as Annie’s worried face.

“Oh Anya, thank god!” Annie’s hands cradled her face, “You’re okay, you’re both okay. Thank god!” Annie cried as more tears welled in her eyes. Wait, where was Paul?

“Paul? Is- is he-” Her soft request was cut off.

“The just took him out on the stretcher, he’s unconscious and they’ve stemmed the blood flow. I needed to make sure you woke up before I-”

“Annie Tarrant, you go after your husband right now. I’ll be fine with Miss-” She looked up at the paramedic.

“Barker, ma’am.” She supplied.

“-with Miss Barker, alright?” Annie seemed entirely unconvinced, “Annie it’s over, okay? I’m fine. Go to the hospital with Paul and I’ll come by the hospital in the morning with Vadim.” With one final smile from Anya, Annie nodded and hesitantly stood up. Anya closed her eyes at the sound of Annie’s hurried footsteps fading, the voice of Miss Barker cutting through.

“Think you can sit up, honey?” She nodded and scrunched her face at the headache that was forming, her hands forming into fists around the soft object in her hand-

_ Wait, what was that? _

Sitting up fully she lifted her right hand up and open, her eyes nearly bugging out at what she saw. Another amaryllis lay cradled in her fingers, the same ones that had been encompassed by the stranger mere minutes ago.

“Is there anyone you can call to take yah home, cher? Unless you think yah need to head to the emergency room.” Miss barker’s voice came in gently.

“No, no emergency room. I can- I can call my brother to come get me.” Miss Barker helped her to stand and led her over to the phone in Annie’s bedroom. She smiled graciously at the paramedic before dialing Vadim’s number.

The line rang a few times before a groggy voice picked up.

“Whoever this is better have a damn good reason fo-”

“Vadim?”

A small pause and a second of shuffling was heard before he answered.

“Anya? Anya I- Anastasia, do you understand what time it is?!” She inhaled shakily and exhaled just as bad, something that didn’t escape her brother’s notice, “Anya?  **_Kroshka_ ** , what is it? What’s wrong?” The pet name was the thing to finally set her tears off, the mask of confidence she put on for her friend falling.

“Vadim...I really need you to come get me,” Her voice was watery, “I’m at Annie’s-” 

“Say no more, I’m coming now! Five minutes,  **_dushen’ka_ ** !” He hung up abruptly as she was left to sit there with nothing but her tears from the night's events and two flowers from a myth.

_________________________________

All her life, Anastasia Fyodorov had been told fairytales and ghost stories by her family. Tales of long haired women in towers and men with bloody fingers that would appear in your closet were the ones Vadim would tell her most often, her mother sticking to the classic prince charming riding in on a white steed. All of them would keep her up at night contemplating possibilities, even the stories about goblins who stole naughty children from their beds. Such thoughts, such stories, so many possibilities that she could fantasize about as a child. Would she be the princess or the goblin? The knight or the dragon?

Those stories stopped coming when her family had fled Russia. By the time the worst of the situation was over her mother was more concerned about getting her family acclimated to the USA and ensuring their future than continuing their nightly ritual of story time.

Anya and Vadim had to grow up by the time their feet touched New Orleans.

The people were so different to those she was used to, so jubilant and bursting with life that she often felt as if she was walking on pure sunshine. The constant flow of music that swam up and down the streets almost every day became a comfort she never knew she needed. Loud trumpets and tubas with the dancing beat of a drum inspiring everyone to get on their feet and dance with the crowd. She had already been trained into the world of dance, but nothing like this.

And the food?  _ Oh _ . The food.

Flavors she never knew existed took over their everyday dinner and enhanced her palette. Never before had she eaten anything super spicy or dripping in rich sauces, so used to chicken kiev and cabbage in broth. As well off as her family was she was taught from a young age that a dancer maintained a certain lifestyle and diet if they wanted to get anywhere. Chocolates and sweets were a rarity that only came when she achieved the expectations set forth for her.

Here, sweets flew in from left and right at the twins. Her mother often had to restrict the amount of sugar they were given for later days with how often they received it. She still made sure her children knew stranger danger was different from the kindness of friends; Elena Fyodorov was not raising any fools, after all.

No matter where they went or who they met, myths and legends were the most common part of their new lives. If you could conjure it up in your brain she had heard it, everything from voodoo kings of old to Marie Leveau herself; nothing was off limits.

And that included the tale of The Candyman.

“You’re sure you feel alright? Do you need more tea? What about a snack?” Vadim had been fretting over her like a mother hen since he’d gotten her in his car, not taking his hand from hers the entire time. He’d only ever seen her in distress five times in his life, only three of them had she cried.

Tonight had been one of those times and he never wanted to see the look of pure distress in those blue eyes ever again.

“Vadim, please-”

“Whatever you need, just tell me and-”

“Vadim, I-”

“-I’ll get it for you, just say the word-”

“VADIM!” She grasped his face in her hands and shook gently, “Please, you’ve done enough for me tonight. I think what I need now is a good night’s sleep before I go visit the hospital in a few hours.” His hands came up to hold hers to his face as he sighed through his nose.

“Well I’m taking you, that’s non-negotiable Anastasia” She smiled tiredly in acceptance, “I don’t know what happened and I won’t push you, but-”

“I promise I’ll tell you all about it in the morning on our way to visit Paul, okay?” He kept eye contact with her for another few seconds before conceding to her request, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he rose from her bed.

“I’ll see you in the morning then?” He stopped at her light switch in question.

“In the morning.” She confirmed softly. 

He nodded and closed the door gently, peeking back in after two seconds.

“I’ll be up if you need-”

“Vadim!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” He insisted and shut the door for a final time, finally leaving Anya to her thoughts in a safe place.

Anya sat there for a few minutes simply staring at her hands, twisting them in the blankets over and over again. What had happened tonight? What the  _ fuck _ had happend tonight? One second she’d been ready to have a midnight snack with Paul and Annie and the next she’d been confronted with a threat to Paul’s life at the hands of a stranger.

_ ‘Candyman…’ _

No, absolutely not. The dead could not walk and ghosts could not take corporeal form, he was a myth. A legend to frighten tourists. A man who had been long buried and left behind by the world.

The man from tonight had to have been a crazed follower who idolized the idea of Candyman, who had stalked her and Annie since the day they visited the shrine. What other explanation could there be for the flowers after all? Speaking of flowers…

She reached over for her bag at the side of her bed, pulling out the two red blooms. Normally, from her experience, men had always gifted women with generic flowers such as lilies or roses to express any kind of affection. An amaryllis was an uncommon choice that clearly expressed a flowers language.

_ ‘Much like I did with the gardenia for-’ _

No, nope, she wasn’t going to go to that head space. The man from tonight had been a stalker, a dangerous one, but a stalker nonetheless; something she would rectify come morning after seeing Annie and Paul.

She should throw them out, the flowers. Yet even as she held them something in her fought against the idea of doing so, almost as if she was throwing out a piece of herself. As strange as that sounded.

She shook her head and placed the flowers onto her bedside table, turning over and tucking the blankets around her shoulders in hopes of a peaceful sleep devoid of men with hooks.

_____________________________

At the first sign of morning, both the Fyodorov twins were up and about much to Vadim’s chagrin. He’d hoped Anya would sleep a few more hours so he could make her a proper breakfast before making their way to the hospital. Unfortunately breakfast was a piece of toast and a whole grapefruit for his sister before she descended into the shower, ignoring her twin's protest.

He knew she’d be speedy and opted for a bowl of oatmeal instead of his usual sausage links and eggs, part of him also wanting to be ready for when she told him about the previous night's events.

As he predicted, Anya was back downstairs within twenty five minutes; her hair thrown haphazardly into a bun with a yellow sundress that flowed down to her knees. He chewed the last bite of his breakfast before grabbing his keys and nodding his head towards the door.

She took the hint and followed his lead as he led her out of the house and back into his black jaguar. All was quiet until Anya turned on the radio to fill the silence.

_ Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Now you makin' me proud, New Orleans. We are eatin' the meat raw. l tell ya what, l'm not goin' home till this is over. l'm on the air full time. Man, somebody bring me a hurricane. Somebody find this Kingfish a woman. Lent starts tomorrow, mes amis, and me, l want somethin' tasty to give up! _

Vadim reached over to switch it off before addressing his sister.

“Anya, do you think we could...talk now? About last night?” He inquired gently. She laid her head back and blinked slowly.

“I went to visit Ethan at the police station, but something about what he was saying had me on edge. I don’t know what he said to Annie, but I had to see her- talk to her about Ethan” She pushed her seat back slightly in order to relax, “Paul was making Annie a snack and offered to make me something as well. ‘Course I said yes, I’ll never pass up his crepes.” She smiled at Vadim’s chortle.

“He was gone for a minute before I heard a struggle and went after him, but what I saw was far from what I was expecting” Her eyes went hazy as her brain went back in time, “There was a man I’d never seen before. He was- he was hurting Paul, stabbing him from what I could tell. Annie was terrified and I- I didn’t know what else to do, but I wanted to get his attention off of Paul.” She whispered.

“Anya-”

“I yelled to get his attention, just to get him away from them. He dropped Paul and came towards me, his hand was- it…” She stuttered over the memory, “He had a hook for a hand, Vadim” His head turned in alarm before putting his attention back on the road, “He was frightening in ways I couldn't tell you, so tall and broad with a voice that could make the devil shake.” Vadim’s hands tightened on the wheel as she continued.

“He grabbed me almost...gently, as if I would break if he even made one wrong move. And his eyes. His eyes…” She felt her throat catch as she thought of those passionate pools of molten chocolate, “His eyes were so fervent and intense that I thought he’d kill me with just one look, Vadim. He spoke to me briefly and pulled me in as if-” She stopped herself as a thought crossed her mind that hadn’t last night as Vadim looked at her once more. The light ahead turned red as he pulled to a stop, reaching over to grasp her hand.

“As if what?” He gently probed. She squeezed his hand as if for courage.

“-As if he was going to kiss me.” The light turned green as Vadim’s brow furrowed, his one hand borderline strangling the wheel.

“And then?”

“Everything went black. By the time I came around he was gone and Paul was being taken to the hospital.” She didn’t say anything about the flowers, Vadim was already mad enough without her adding stalking to the fire.

The rest of the ride was silent and maybe that was for the best, she could tell Vadim was already irritated enough. Not at her, but at the knowledge of what had transpired against his sister and her friends; how he wasn’t there to help. He’d always been that way as irrational as she’d told him it was, after all, how could anyone expect someone to be there to help at all times? That simply wasn’t logical and she wished he’d see that.

After another thirty minutes, the twins found themselves taking a brisk pace into the hospital in order to track down the Tarrant’s. Just as they turned the corner, a familiar voice had them picking up the pace.

“For the last time, I need to know where my daughter and son in law are! Is that a good enough reason?” Octavia Tarrant’s tone held no room for arguments as the nurses before her tried to maintain a sense of calm.

“Ma’am, I can’t help you without a name-”

“And I told you it was Tarrant! Annie and Paul Tarrant!  _ Tarrant _ . Is that clear enough?” Anya picked up the pace before Octavia decided to start raising hell.

“Mrs. Tarrant!” At the sound of Anya’s voice, Octavia’s entire demeanor changed as she turned around in relief at the sight of the twins.

“Anya, sweetheart!” Octavia laughed and embraced her tightly, her hand stroking down her hair, “Oh thank goodness you’re here, are you alright? Annie called and told me what happened!” Her voice trailed off as she stepped back and cupped Anya’s face.

“I’m fine, really! Vadim and I were hoping to come visit them as well.” She smiled and gestured at her brother. Octavia let out a light chuckle and embraced her brother fondly.

“Vadim you get more and more handsome every time I see you.” Octavia laughed and patted his cheek.

“Tell that to my ex.” He chuckled. Anya took this moment to turn to the nurses.

“We’re looking for Paul and Annie Tarrant, please.” The nurse gave a light glare towards Octavia before writing out three labels and handing them to Anya.

“Room 456, should be awake by now.” The nurse grumbled as Octavia rolled her eyes and strutted off with the twins in tow. The white halls and fluorescent lights had always given Anya minor migraines, the smell of disinfectant egging it on even more so. 

‘Best not to focus on that.’ She rubbed her temples at the on-coming feeling.

As the trio neared their destination, a familiar blonde left the very room of interest. Annie looked exhausted beyond belief, her hair frazzled and black bags hanging from her red rimmed eyes. At the sight of her mother, she turned back into a child.

“Mom!” At Annie’s whimper, Octavia picked up the pace to embrace her.

“Oh baby,” She held Annie like her life depended on it, “Shhh, it’s alright baby. I’m here, Mamas here.” She cooed as Annie cried into her shoulder, emotions finally boiling over as Anya’s had the previous night. There was something about hearing the voice of a family member that made everything feel safe, like you could react in any way without judgement.

Anya and Vadim looked at each other in silent question as to whether or not they should give them a moment, but Annie made that decision for them; initiating a hug that engulfed the both of them.

“Anya, I’m so sorry I left you! I didn’t want to, but Paul-” 

“Annie, don’t even finish that sentence. Paul is your husband for god sakes, I’d be mad if you didn’t go with him” She chided her gently, “You stayed until I woke up and that’s what matters. Besides, this lumberjack here made sure I got home safe.” Vadim looked offended at the nickname.

“The one time I decide to grow out the beard...” He grumbled before looking at Annie, “Speaking of Paul, how is he?” His voice was cautious, not knowing what to expect.

“He’ll make a full recovery in time. His wound was deep, but the paramedics managed to get him into surgery with seconds to spare.” Anya felt a relieved breath leave her body, the sight of a hooked hand in Paul’s back still fresh within her mind.

“Oh honey, that’s wonderful news!” Octavia rubbed her daughter’s back, “Is he takin’ visitors or…?” She trailed off while silently inquiring with Annie.

“He’s sleeping for now, but I’m sure he’ll be up in an hour or two for breakfast if you all wanna stick around?”

“Well of course we do!” She smiled at Annie and began to lead all of them to the room. With a sudden stop, Annie turned to them.

“Mom, Vadim...would you mind going in ahead of us? I just need to speak to Anya for a second.” Vadim knew most of what had transpired the previous night and caught on quickly, turning to Octavia to offer his arm.

“Well Madame, would you mind if i accompanied you?” His voice had dropped two octaves lower and made Octavia chuckle in a flustered fashion.

“How could I resist such an offer?” She giggled and grasped his arm as they made their way into Paul’s room. Annie grabbed Anya’s hand and led her down the hall into the women’s room, releasing it to look into every stall inside.

“Annie what-”

“This is all my fault, Anya! It’s all my damned fault!” Her eyes began to well up again, “I didn’t think anything of it when I did it, I just thought I could make the kids feel better!” Her words hitched in her throat, rejecting Anya’s touch with a shake of her head.

“Annie, I need you to tell me what you’re talking about.” Anya crossed her arms to keep herself from comforting the distraught woman.

“The day we left the shrine, Paul dropped me off for work. Drew had gotten into a fight with Matthew, but I was able to break it up and figure out what was going on” At Anya’s nod she continued, “Matthew has been...very enamoured with the Candyman myth as of late, drawing him and acting as if he knows- well, knows what he’s  _ feeling _ .” 

Annie leaned on the sink, her eyes drawn to the faucet.

“He got the other kids freaked out about it and I just wanted everyone to calm down! I would never have- if I would have known I-” Anya touched her friends back in concern.

“Annie, breathe it’s-”

“I said his name…” She whispered so faintly that Anya couldn’t understand.

“Honey, I’m gonna need you to speak-”

“I SAID HIS NAME!” Annie yelled, her hands clenching the sink, “I looked into the mirror and said his name five times…” She felt her friend's hand recoil from her back.

“...Whose name?” Anya had a feeling she knew where this was going.

Annie looked up in the mirror at Anya’s reflection and felt her face crumble at the amount of concern she saw. Drawing in a deep breath, she turned around slowly and whispered her answer so softly that Anya had to lean in.

“ _ Candyman _ .” 

__________________________________

  
  



	4. In Morte, Aerternitatis (Ch. 4): What's In A Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya learns that even in her dreams, she cannot escape the enigma known as Candyman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly suggest listening to 'Pan's Labyrinth Lullaby' during Anya's dream sequence as it completely sets the mood. Enjoy! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dig2ZEV5Pj4

_ “Now remember,  _ **_moya lyubov’_ ** _ , never ever and I mean NEVER say that name five times.” _

_ “But Mama, all the other kids said I’d be the coolest kid in school!” _

_ “ _ **_Net_ ** _ , if I ever hear talk of this nonsense again I’ll homeschool you myself.” _

_ A 10 year old Vadim sat dejectedly at the table with his mother, her expression stern yet concerned. _

_ “Mama?  _ **_Rodnoy brat_ ** _?” A seven year old Anastasia rubbed her eyes in confusion at being woken up by her brother’s complaining. Vadim never knew how to master his inside voice. _

_ “Anya,  _ **_moy rebenok_ ** _ ” Elena cooed at her youngest, “What are you doing up,  _ **_moye ditya_ ** _?” She scooped her daughter into her lap. _

_ “I heard Vadim talking about The Candyma-” Elena put a firm hand over her daughter’s mouth. _

_ “Anastasia Ilyena Fyodorov, if I ever hear you say that name again you will spend a week in your room” Anya’s eyes widened, “That goes for you as well, Vadim. Have I taught the both of you nothing?” Vadim stood up. _

_ “But Mama, why can’t we say it?” Her hand dropped from Anya’s mouth as she placed her next to Vadim, squatting down to place her hands on their shoulders. _

_ “There is power in a name,  _ **_moi deti_ ** _. To say it out loud is to acknowledge. Once you do this there is no going back, you forfeit any and all say in what happens. Words are powerful and a name is a word. Remember this and promise me you will not say that one, no matter who tells you to do it.” Elena smiled as her children nodded in understanding. _

Anya had been too young to fully understand what her mother had meant. At that age, her brain understood that Candyman was a bad word that would result in punishment if she said it. Bad words were a no-no in her house growing up and Elena Fyodorov always made good on her punishments if need be.

Now though, standing in front of her best friend of six years in a hospital bathroom, she finally understood what her mother had meant.

Annie had performed the silent dare so to speak, she had stared a mirror down and uttered a forbidden name five times for all to see. Normally she’d find the whole idea insane, wouldn’t believe it if she didn’t see it.

The problem was she had.

She’d seen the hook in Paul’s back, watched the tall stranger stalk towards; smelled the distinct scent of honey and blood emanating from his very pores. Most importantly though, she’d felt his touch as clear as day. The metal of his hook was terrifying enough, but the skin of his other? That was bone and muscle and blood all wrapped in flesh that put the night sky to shame.

He was real. He was real because Annie had made him so.

“Oh god, Annie…” She rubbed a hand down her face. Paul had paid the price, but only barely as a result of Annie’s need to reassure her kids.

“I know! God Anya, I know! I’ve been tearing my hair out over it all night” She turned the faucet on and splashed her face with cold water, “He could’ve killed you, hell he almost killed Paul! If you hadn’t come along…” A shudder ran through her spine as she watched Annie dry her face.

“He could’ve killed you too, Ann. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t try if you’re the one that called him.” That had been a big thought in her head. The way the legend went, whoever spoke the name five times in a mirror would be split from groin to gullet; yet he’d seemingly spared Annie.

“He spoke to me in my bathroom when he first appeared” Now that caught her attention, “He said that I had a journey to make with him and then when you passed out-” She looked at Anya and shook her head, “He caught you and just  _ stared  _ at you for what felt like hours before putting you down. When he did he told me that I-  _ we  _ were his.” She felt her throat close.

“We? As in you and Paul?” She knew the answer before the question left her mouth.

“No. We as in you and I, Anya.” 

“That makes no sense!” She yelled as a nurse wandered into the bathroom, promptly turning back the way she came at the sight of the irritated Russian before her, “I didn’t say his name into a mirror, not once! How is it that he wants me? Why would he leave me the fl-” Annie’s head perked up.

“Anya? What were you going to say?” Annie attempted to make eye contact with Anya, watching her eyes widen. 

“It really was him” She whispered in shock before looking up at Annie, “The day we went to the shrine, I left a flower as an offering; a gardenia. After hearing about Purcell’s story I just- I don’t know, I felt sentimental about the man behind the legend.” She scoffed and looked at Annie’s bewildered face.

“When I was done at work I heard a knock, but by the time I came to the door there was no one there except-” She reached into her purse and pulled out the first amaryllis, “-except this.” Annie took the flower from her and studied it as if she’d find the answers she was looking for. “It’s an amaryllis, it means something along the lines of beauty and worth. Then just last night I woke up with another in my hand” She pulled out the second bloom, “The hand he held before I fainted.” Annie relinquished the flower back to her confused companion.

“As creepy as that is, it still doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t say his- wait, you didn’t say his name right?” Anya nearly barked out laughter at that.

“Jesus Annie, of course not! My mother instilled the fear of god into me as a child about even saying Candyman in conversation!”

“So what, you give him a flower and suddenly he wants to be your best friend?”

“I know how it sounds without you repeating it, Annie Tarrant! He may have left me flowers, but he never appeared to me; not like he did with you” She strained to keep her voice leveled, “Have you seen him since last night in any way?”

Annie’s eyes widened slightly, her breathing becoming deeper as she nodded.

“When Paul was still in surgery I was in his intended room waiting. I looked up at the windows and he was there, in the reflection just looking at me. He told me that I’d brought him here, that I needed to come with him and there was this...this painting? I don’t know, but then-” She closed her eyes as if to block out the memory, “-then there was a vision of him slitting Mom’s throat.” She could no longer hold her tears back at the reminder of what she’d seen.

Any irritation Anya had felt before evaporated at the sight of Annie’s vulnerability, her maternal instincts took over as she embraced the shaking blonde. Annie would never do something she knew would bring harm to the people she cared for, it just wasn’t in her nature. As much as Elena had always warned them of names and the power they held, it was ludicrous to think that actually performing a childhood dare would make him flesh. Vadim had performed the Bloody Mary dare on more than one occasion unbeknownst to their mother and he had always come out laughing, no vengeful ghost to speak of.

Yet while Annie had uttered the infamous name, Anya had not and yet- and yet she could still sense him; sense his now unmistakable presence. As long as she didn’t say his name she’d be safe,  _ hopefully _ , long enough to help Annie. Now that she knew Candyman was indeed real, it made more sense as to why Ethan had been acting so odd. While he’d still been an arrogant fool in the face of help he clearly had been trying to protect them, tried to keep the idea of Candyman a dead man’s tale.

That had backfired spectacularly.

“Anya, I don’t know what to do. What if he tries to hurt Paul again?” Annie clutched Anya’s back as if a lifeline.

“The only thing we can do is figure out what he wants and how to stop him. The sooner we do that the longer we can stay alive.” She pulled back from the hug as Annie calmed herself, but one question remained.

“You still didn’t fully answer my question” Anya cocked her head in confusion, “What does he want with you if you haven’t said his name?” While it wasn’t something she wanted to think about, Annie had a point.

“That’s something I intend to find out.”

______________________________

She was insane, nutty, absolutely bonkers for wanting to go back to that shrine. It wasn’t a good idea in any way, shape or form and really how could it be? Going there in the first place was purely academic if not a tad sentimental, but wanting to go again after everything? No sane human being in their right mind would dare.

Alas, here she was, standing before the screaming mural alone.

Something about being alone in here this time around felt more dangerous. Perhaps because only the night before her friends had nearly died at the hands of the man she’d paid her respects to; the man she thought to be a myth long buried. The only comfort she had was that she had not used his name in front of the mirror, rendering him unable to physically manifest in her presence. Even with that thought she could still feel him there with her, as if he was waiting in the shadows hoping she’d call to him properly.

“I suppose we’re past the point of formalities at this rate” She crossed her arms and kept her gaze on the lit candles before her, “You did try to kill my friend, after all.” No response greeted her as she bit her lip.

“I don’t think Annie knew what she was doing when she called you, it was purely selfless. That’s Annie for you though, putting her life at risk in order to calm down a few rowdy boys- boys that were up in arms over  _ you _ I might add!” If someone were to come in at this moment, they’d most assuredly be calling the psych ward at the sight of a crazed redhead talking to a wall.

She started to pace and rake her nails through mussed red tresses, eyes wandering from mural to mural in agitation. She finally settled on the one that showed Candym-  _ Daniel _ being restrained by jeering dandies in preparation to saw off his hand; his mouth agape and eyes wide in fear. 

“I won’t pretend to understand what you went through, be hard pressed to find anyone that could I think” She once again found herself reaching out to touch his restrained hand, “To die for love- die for loving someone that society deems against the norm isn’t quite as romantic as philosophers make it out to be. My uncle learned that the hard way…” She trailed off, letting her fingers slip down the wall and back to her side.

No, she wouldn’t share more of herself with this man after what he’d done.

“Look” She turned with a new found ferocity back to the shrine, “I don’t know what you want with Annie, you would have killed her already if you had no use for her. Say the name and end them groin to gullet, right? Well whatever you’re planning, I won’t let you have her so easily; she’s had enough taken from her” Her eyes bore into the mismatched painted ones as if daring him to come uncalled, “And so have I.” With one last long look at the mural Anya turned to leave with the setting sun, long lit candles extinguishing behind her only seconds after with a strong gust of wind.

______________________________

That night found her in her bed with Philip Purcell’s book, trying to absorb as much information as she could.

_ Daniel Robitaille... _

_ Born to slaves… _

_ Educated… _

_ Artist by trade… _

_ Fell in love… _

_ Died for love… _

The pages turned rapidly as she attempted to learn more about this man, eyes not moving fast enough for her liking. If it wasn’t for the manner in which his story ended, his life almost could have been the perfect romance. Two people from different worlds falling into each other's arms thanks to a commissioned painting, a child as a result of their passions.

Unfortunately tragedy and hatred presented at the forefront of this story. Never would their love have been allowed to continue due to their statuses in life; the different color of their skin.

Yet Daniel was the one who was punished- was the one who paid with his life and, evidently, his soul.

Of course, that wasn’t entirely fair of her to think. The thought of having to watch the man you love die as his child grew within you, knowing he’d never get to love them the way they deserved to be loved; the way he deserved to be loved.

Maybe a good night’s rest would clear her mind enough to do more research in the morning. She placed the book in the top drawer of her nightstand, her eye catching on the two red flowers that still lay on the surface next to her lamp.

“Worth beyond beauty…” Her fingertips grazed the petals of one as if in a trance before shaking herself out of it and switching the lamp off.

She felt her body begin to relax as the darkness pulled her under and dreams filled her mind.

The field in front of her was blanketed in the purest snow and lit ethereal by the full moon above. Her feet bore no shoes yet she could not feel the cold, it was her dream after all. The distinct sound of a melody flowed around her, a violin’s beautiful yet melancholy cry and the keys of a gentle piano following in its wake enticing her into a dance.

Her movements were slow to start, gradually evolving into a sure yet slow routine to match the song all around her. Moon beams danced off her fiery hair as the tender breeze blew snowflakes to kiss the flowing tresses, her simple pale pink dress touching just to the middle of her knees over and over again as she moved.

The footprints she made filled in almost as quickly as they were created as gleaming crystals replaced them in the wake of the moon. Every night she wondered why it was always snow, why did her mind immediately take her here? The mind could imagine many splendored images, fireflies over a lush meadow where Puck lay hidden and uttering at the foolishness of mortals; Rapunzel’s sunlit tower surrounded by stained glass and old books.

Yet deep in her soul, she knew why here; why snow.

The last and only memory she had of her time in Russia was a happy one, something she kept close to her heart and always would. She and Vadim had made snow angels as both of her parents stood within a few feet of their children.

_ Both of her parents… _

Not only was this the last and only memory she had of Russia, but also that of her father. Ivan Fyodorov was a name that had not been uttered in what felt like decades yet he haunted her just as much as the thought of Candyman did. His salt and pepper beard riddled with snowflakes and his body wrapped in a dark brown fur, arm laced with Elena’s much more delicate one.

She remembered how his whiskey brown eyes never strayed from his two children and his mouth in what appeared to be a permanent straight line. Her younger self had caught his gaze and smiled so wide that a flicker of something akin to warmth passed through his eyes before her memory went blank.

Maybe that was it. The snow held that memory, froze it in an eternal loop for her only.

Her body went into a few quick pirouettes before halting with one hand stretched before her and the other gently grasped in a warm hand from behind. Hear senses heightened and raised at the hackles, never before had anyone else ever joined her dream; not this one.

Red hair flew as she whipped her head around, her lips parting in an attempt to take in more air that her lungs couldn’t seem to find.

There he stood in all his broad glory just the same as she had seen him at Annie’s. His hand once again grasping hers gently as she stood in her final pose, wide blue eyes intertwining with intense brown that seemed to keep her in place.

“It’s you…” Her voice was but a mere whisper, “How?” His lips parted ever so slightly as his fingers tightened around her hand gently.

“This place that you’ve created does not exist on a physical plane” His voice only seemed to have gotten deeper since last she saw him, “Therefore, I am able to come to you without a proper calling.” His arm began to tug softly as if he was keeping hold of a frightened doe, her own body slowly twisting fully towards him and willingly following his pull.

Once their chests were within inches, the hand holding hers raised slightly as the other came to rest at the small of her back in a waltz position. She had expected to feel the sting of cold metal at her spine, but was instead surprised at the warmth of a large palm. He smirked as if reading her mind.

“In dreams, we can be whomever we so choose” The music still played on a never ending loop around them as he began to sway with her gingerly, “We can perform tasks that one only yearns for in the mortal world.” His voice almost seemed to mesh with the music perfectly, as if the song existed only to be in sync with him.

He spun her delicately, her hair caressing his coat in a stark contrast of flame dancing in the night sky. They moved effortlessly around and with each other in a way that frightened her. He was attuned to her movements and she to his more so than any dance partner she’d ever encountered. Yes this was a dream and things were obviously different in this reality, but she had a feeling that his grace and agility was something that carried over into the real world just as hers did. 

His hand remained a constant reassurance at the small of her back through every dip and twirl while the other engulfed her fingers entirely. They were larger than any she could remember yet long and elegant in the fingers with no calluses to speak of, an artist's hand through and through. 

“In the world of the living this hand remains a grizzled reminder of my death, a cruel tease that numbs touch. But here?” He dropped the hand holding hers and slid the other around her waist so that it squeezed her securely into a one armed lift, their bodies chest to chest with her one arm wound around his neck as he spun her a mere two times; stopping gradually to slide her back down to their starting position, “I can feel you with both as if I still lived.” His voice gentled to a whisper and tempting her body into the desire for another dance.

Her breath was labored in a way it shouldn’t have been, years of physical fitness and training allowing her a high stamina and control of oxygen. He had an unnatural effect over her and perhaps that was the dream blending with his own supernatural aura, she couldn’t be sure, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

“The flowers” She suddenly remembered, her hand sliding down from his shoulder, “Why the flowers? Why me?” His hand left her waist and caught hers as it lay just above his heart, keeping it pressed there.

“You bestowed unto me the same, did you not? More than that, you’ve done something no one has managed to do in a very long time” His other hand once again dropped her hand in favor of cupping her cheek, his hand so big and fingers so long that he almost cradled her entire head, “You’ve intrigued me-  _ enraptured _ my attention.” He dipped his face closer to hers as her eyes fluttered at his proximity.

“You, Anastasia, are an enigma that I long to discover. A lone woman who leaves the first shred of kindness I’ve felt in centuries as an offering and calls me by my name” Her eyes fluttered back open, “My  _ true _ name.” His own eyes drifted down to her lips and lingered there as she finally felt able to conjure words to her tongue.

“Wh- what do you want with A- Annie?” Vadim would laugh at how pathetic she sounded right now.

“Quite the question, one for another time. For now?” He leaned in as if to kiss her, thumb tracing her bottom lip, “I think it best if you... _ wake up _ .” She felt the music around her stop as the dream melted away into a mixture of snow and honey, the bright morning of light greeting her in a warm kiss.

She opened her eyes at the ever persistent sun beams, a gasp leaving her throat as she felt around; sighing in relief when she touched the blankets of her bedding. A dream, a very realistic dream, but a dream nonetheless. Truly it had felt as if she never fell asleep at all. The feel of his hands, the brush of snowflakes on her face, his breath on her cheek; it truly was the most realistic dream she’d ever had.

He’d been so brutal in his pursuit of Paul that she almost believed he had some sort of alter ego. Dream be damned, to be so savagely harsh yet delicately soft was a conundrum. Maybe something he had said would resonate with Annie, she’d need to tell her right away. She sighed and stretched her limbs, shaking the sleep from her bones and letting her eyes drift over to the nightstand where her red blooms now held new company.

There in plain view was a sprig of what looked like sweetpea. 

She sat up and snatched the white flower as she threw the covers off; padding over to her book case in concentration. Her fingers skimmed the well used spines until they settled on a manual of botany and began to flip through the pages until she found the letter ‘S’.

_ Saffron _

_ Sage _

_ Snowdrop _

Ah! There it was, sweetpea.  Derived from the Geek word “lathyros” of which translates to ‘pulse’. In terms of its own language, the  sweetpea can mean delicate pleasure, blissful pleasure, a declaration of thanks for a lovely time and adieu.

_ Oh. _

She let the book slip to the floor as she brought the flower towards her face. That dream was, in a way she didn’t understand, seemingly- well,  _ real _ . He had come to her without the call, but how was that possible? Was it true how he described it? The thought of dreams and the unconscious plane having different rules than that of reality didn’t seem that crazy; especially with how much she’d been thinking of him subconsciously. Now that she knew this it was imperative that she talked to Annie about it.

Well, maybe she would keep the part about dancing with him private for now.

____________________________

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to run that by me again.” An incredulous Annie crossed her arms at what she’d just been told.

Her reaction to Anya’s dream would have been humorous if it wasn’t for the fact that the blonde had summoned the very same hooked specter through a mirror and encountered him in her home.

“You heard me, he somehow found a way to communicate with me and...that just happens to be through my dreams” She rubbed her temples at Annie’s furrowing brow, “Look, I know it sounds weird-”

“That’s an understatement-”

“-but it’s real. He may not be able to come to me like he has you, but he sure as other ways. For what purpose...that’s what I’ll need to figure out.”

“Did he say anything of interest last night?” The question was innocent enough, but it also brought a light dusting of red to her cheeks at the thought of their dance.

She hadn’t been able to resist him, as outrageous as that sounded. This man- this ghost had nearly killed her friend the other night and was now stalking the other for reasons she couldn’t understand. Even with all of that in mind, she had not been able to fight him.

There was something so alluring and calming about the man even with the bloody hook embedded into his wrist; he had an aura that could pull you in and never let go.

She’d need to work on resisting that if she ever wanted to get straight answers.

“Not really, just a bunch of cryptic bullshit.” She didn’t like lying to Annie, but now wasn’t the time to tell her she waltzed with her husband’s almost killer.

“Dammit, I was hoping you’d have good news to balance out mine” Anya quirked her head, “It’s Matthew, some of the kids came by mom’s this morning. He’s gone missing.” Annie began to pace, anxiety practically dripping from her pores.

“Missing? What would-”

“I said his name in front of Matthew. I said Candyman five times in the mirror just to calm him down, show him there was nothing that could happen and-” She sighed deeply, “-and now he’s missing, that can’t be a coincidence.” Anya bit her lip thoughtfully.

“What about his father? He’s a Pastor just up the road, right? He may not know where Matthew is, but maybe he has some insight.” As long as they could get him to speak to them at all.

“That might work” Annie retrieved her keys from the counter, “Let me just make a quick trip to check on Paul and we can head over there.” She motioned Anya to follow, the red head already making strides to follow before something out of the corner of her eye stopped her.

There in the reflection of one of Annie’s windows was the silhouette of a very familiar man, hook raised in greeting. She turned to look where the reflection would be coming from with a gasp...only to see nothing.

“Anya? Yah comin’?” Annie called out.

“Yeah! Sorry-” She turned back to the window to see the reflection gone with only a small bee buzzing around in place from outside, “-I forgot my bag, coming!”

The little bee buzzed around after the red head, watching as she entered the car; its small body softly landing on a nearby bush of sweet pea as the car drove off.

  
  



End file.
